Tick tock goes the clock,
As I hold your hand.
Click clock the lock,
As the key makes the sound.
Tip tap sounds the feet,
As the door scraps the ground.
Bang, bang yells the barrel,
As I scramble around.
"No" whispers my heart,
As I hear you pound,
Down on the floor,
Red rose in your hand,
Just like the river of blood,
Streaming down your right cheek.
Crimson and rich,
Just like mature red wine.
Yet that is not wine I see.
Not even your own scream or whine
Escapes your mouth.
Just more blood.
And wide innocent vacant eyes
Staring at me.
YOU ARE READING
Words +
PoetryA teeny tiny book filled with strange and unusual poetry written by yours truly
